Loved by Death Hades Perspective of Their Fight
by AiramS
Summary: This is part of my story Loved by Death that did not make the cut into the actual story as I feared it would become too redundant. However, as some of my reviewers has expressed interest in reading it, I decided to post it as a separate entry.


**A part of my story Loved by Death that didn't make the cut in the actual story. Some of my reviewers have, however, expressed interest in reading Hades' perspective about their fight, so here it is.**

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Hades paced nervously in front of the door. Since Demeter's accusation of him raping her daughter, Persephone had been far friendlier with him, and he was living in constant terror of messing it up.

It had long been clear to him that sending his wife above ground was the best thing he'd ever been forced to do. Persephone smiled to him now, and Hades was well aware that her mother's distasteful behaviour had everything to do with that.

Pulling himself together, he reminded himself that he was the feared Lord of the Underworld and not some young school boy with his first crush. Refusing to show his nervousness, he knocked on the door, trying not the gape at the sight that met him when it opened.

His wife was wearing a black shawl over a purple dress, but what really caught his attention was the fact that she had clearly put on make-up. Was she trying to be pretty for his sake?

"You look beautiful," he told her, and somehow everything just seemed easier from then on. Persephone seemed interested in getting to know him. She even seemed to think his opinions were valuable, going as far as asking to borrow his favourite book. Everything was close to perfection.

And then she brought up Hermes.

For half a second Hades was sure that he'd misunderstood. His wife was the epitome of innocence and naivety, though he was quickly seeing the second part fade away. But she wasn't the type to have any sort of sexual relationship with a man, and now she was mentioning _Hermes_. Sure, she'd kissed Ares, but that had clearly been in order to rebel against her mother, and Hades desperately hoped that this was a similar situation.

"What?" he asked, his throat uncomfortable tight.

"Hermes," Persephone repeated. "You know; the god of messengers."

He _knew_ who Hermes bloody was!

And then his wife proved that she was still so very naïve and told him that she was _friends_ with the other god.

"Yes, I'm sure that _friends_ is what Hermes is hoping for." He couldn't take this. He was well aware where this was going. He'd certainly seen it often enough with the other gods. The golden-haired god would tell his wife pretty lies in the hope of getting her to fall in love with him, and if he succeeded his wife would be _hurt_. Which was unacceptable.

Not to mention that the thought of Hermes touching her perfect skin was enough to make him sick.

"I don't want you to see him."

He really hadn't expected her to become so angry.

He hadn't expected the dress either.

He wasn't sure whether his wife was aware that she had dropped her shawl, but he was unable to ask her. All he could do was stare at her in that purple dress and with a righteous look upon her face, and fall in love all over again.

Naïve or not, Persephone was no coward.

He could think of no other god or mortal who would dare to throw him out of the room in such a way, and he was unable to discern what he felt. He admired her; yes, but at the same time he felt so very _angry_.

Angry at Hermes for putting him in this situation, angry at himself for not choosing his words more carefully, and angry at his wife for being so frustratingly, baffling _naïve_.

Frustratingly running a hand through his hair, he considered his options. Clearly ordering Persephone to stop seeing Hermes hadn't been his best moment. Perhaps he could talk with Hermes. A well-placed threat or two to make it clear that he wouldn't appreciate seeing his wife hurt in any kind of way. The problem was that the other gods weren't exactly known for their self-preservation.

Sighing, Hades considered his options. Half his trouble was created by him talking before thinking, so perhaps it would be wise to take some time to think things over. He'd heard somewhere that it was a good idea to sleep on it before making important decisions.

He'd worry about everything tomorrow.


End file.
